


Heat Wave

by Creed Cascade (creedcascade)



Category: due South
Genre: Arguing, Domestic, Humor, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creedcascade/pseuds/Creed%20Cascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heat wave. The Rays. Plus, a Mountie and an off kilter half-wolf with a pigeon and pug fixation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Post "Call of the Wild".

A heat wave had rolled into Chicago taking its residents hostage and showing no mercy. Only the most desperate and craziest criminals came out on a heat wave like that. A particularly nutso perp Kowalski and Vecchio dragged into the station kept muttering that the sunshine tasted like lemonade and had burned his tongue. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was unrelenting before Kowalski stumbled home. Too tired and hot to sleep. Wanting to be alone, but not really. These days he was never really alone, and despite his grumbling, he loved it.

Kowalski had long ago abandoned a t-shirt in the oppressive heat and was wearing only a pair of cut off jean shorts. He was sprawled on the couch and rolling a dewy beer bottle over his stomach.

Vecchio muttered Italian curses and smacked the air conditioner propped precariously on the window sill. He was threatening it like The Bookman threatened people who owed him money.

“Hitting it isn’t going to make it work,” Kowalski commented with a smirk.

Vecchio hit the air conditioner again, harder this time, and then glared at Kowalski. “It might.”

“Hitting it hasn’t made it work for the last forty-five minutes.”

Watching Vecchio was better than finding the energy to turn on the television, especially when the remote was all the way on the far end of the coffee table. Vecchio had peeled off his silk shirt before his air conditioner vendetta started, leaving him only in a white wife beater. The paisley shirt was carefully draped over the back of one dining room chairs Mama Kowalski had gifted them.

The apartment was cramped and too small for three grown men to spend their free time in, but it was bigger than Fraser’s cabin. Fraser insisted the apartment had an intimate, cozy atmosphere that suited them just fine. Kowalski liked that there was enough space in the living room to dance if you pushed the sofa against the wall. Vecchio liked the mirror that covered half of the wall in the bathroom. They all appreciated the bedroom that was dominated by a huge monster of a bed. Dief liked the fire escape and lurked on it, trying to catch pigeons and a glimpse of the neighbour’s pug if he leaned over the railing. They all agreed Diefenbaker was a freak.

Vecchio wiped away a bead of sweat running down his chest before it hit the gold chain hanging around his neck. “We need a new air conditioner.”

“You keep saying that and yet we still have that piece of shit.”

“God, I hate the heat,” Vecchio complained.

“And you wanted to live in Florida?”

“Shut up.” Vecchio stomped over to the couch and then collapsed next to Kowalski. He grabbed the other man’s beer and took a long gulp before handing it back. “We can’t afford a new one.”

“We can afford a new one, you cheap bastard. You’re just too scared of Fraser to get one.”

“And you aren’t?” Vecchio snorted under his breath. “Do you really want to listen to another three hour lecture on the evils of modern luxuries and their impact on the environment?”

“Not really.” Kowalski took a sip from his beer and handed it to Vecchio. “You might as well bash a baby seal over the head with your Gucci shoe if you buy another air conditioner.”

“God, you’re so gay.”

“You’re calling me, gay?” Kowalski smacked Vecchio on the arm. He plucked at the fabric of Vecchio’s trousers which were plastered to his thighs. “You’re the one who owns the Gucci shoes. And, if you’re hot, you should wear shorts.”

“Italians don’t wear shorts.”

“Diva.”

“At least I’m not a dishevelled wreck of a fashion disaster.”

Kowalski slipped his fingertips into the waistband of his low riding jean shorts. He tilted his head to the side in a way that he knew drove Vecchio crazy in more ways than one. One of his favourite pass times was Vecchio baiting. They spent all day bickering when they were on shift, partnered together because Welsh said the Powers That Be would never subject anyone else to their bullshit. The bickering never stopped when they got back to Kowalski’s apartment. It was unofficially crazy headquarters.

Vecchio might get his mail delivered to his mother’s house, but his suits had taken up residence in Kowalski’s closet next to Fraser’s spare Serge. There was lots of room for the Vecchio wardrobe since Kowalski’s clothes mostly inhabited the bedroom floor.

“If you hate what I’m wearing so much, I could take it off.”

Vecchio licked his upper lip. “You’ll scare the neighbours.”

“A naked Polack is the least of their worries considering Dief’s been eyeing the neighbour’s pug. I’m not sure if he wants to eat it or screw it. Those would be some fugly puppies.”

“Jesus, Kowalski,” Vecchio hissed. “Way to ruin the mood.”

“You’re always in a mood. Pissy.”

At this point in an argument, Vecchio would more often than not grab Kowalski’s shirt and slam him into the nearest wall, or at least try to. Kowalski smirked when he saw Vecchio breathing heavier. He set down the beer bottle on the coffee table and ran a finger down his chest, then popped it into his mouth.

“Salty,” he mumbled around his finger.

“That’s disgusting.”

Kowalski slowly pulled his finger out of his mouth. “It’s hot.” He leaned closer to Vecchio and ran the same finger under the strap of Vecchio’s wife beater. “This is hot, too.”

“We should take a cold shower.”

Kowalski ran the back of his knuckle gently over the flushed skin. “And stop the fun?”

“Fun in the shower. Did you clean the tub?”

“It’s your turn.”

Vecchio leaned and kissed Kowalski thoroughly. “It isn’t.”

“Always have to be…” Kowalski pushed the other man back against the couch and kissed him, nearly climbing into his lap. “…so goddamn…” He nibbled on Vecchio’s bottom lip. “…pigheaded. It is so your turn to clean the bathroom.”

“Just leave it.” Vecchio gave Kowalski a playful shove and stood up.

Kowalski made an indignant noise in the back of his throat and got to his feet. “Remember what happened last time we forgot to clean this place?”

Vecchio shuddered. “I’d rather not.”

It was an unwritten agreement that they both kept the apartment clean when shared with an insane Mountie who had the propensity to lick things he should not.

“You. Me. Cold shower.” Kowalski undid the button of his jean shorts and let them slip down to the floor. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Then we’ll flip a coin for who gets to clean the tub.”

“How practical.”

Kowalski sauntered towards the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder. He knew Vecchio was watching his ass. The man was an ass man. That was more than fine with him and he used it against Vecchio on a regular basis.

Hand on the doorframe and leaning with his hip cocked, Kowalski drawled, “Lose the clothes, Vecchio. Unless you’re not up to it…”

Kowalski knew the way his partner narrowed his eyes that the challenge had worked. Nothing like challenging the man’s sexual prowess to get him riled up. Vecchio pulled his wife beater over his head, taking it off slowly for a show. Vecchio knew the game Kowalski was playing and was playing one of his own. Kowalski was all intense impatience and it was entertaining to tease him.

They were all about push and pull. Constant tension churning and feeding the internal heat. They had their own goddamn heat wave that worked for them.

Vecchio dropped the wife beater on the floor and cupped his crotch. “You want this, princess?”

“Fuck you,” Kowalski hissed, but widened his stance to accommodate the resulting physical effects of Vecchio’s taunting.

“Other way round.” Vecchio toed off his shoes and unzipped his trousers, pushing them and his silk boxers quickly to pool around his ankles.

Fraser’s timing was always uncanny. Uncannily lucky, or unlucky, but always uncanny. At the exact moment both men were standing in the middle of the apartment naked, the deadbolt turned and Fraser strode inside.

Stetson in hand and Deif at his heels, he closed the door behind him. “Ray.”

There was no doubt who Fraser was talking to. He called both men by the same name. When asked why, he would reply simply, ‘That’s his name.’ When someone asked either Vecchio or Kowalski how they knew who Fraser was talking to, they would answer, ‘We just do.’ They knew by his tone. He said Ray differently for each of them. But, there was also a tone that spoke to The Rays.

“Hey, Frase,” Kowalski greeted him with a smirk. “You’re home early. Wanna fool around?”

Fraser rotated his Stetson by its brim and he licked his bottom lip. “You appear to already have started the proceedings without me.”

The tone of Fraser’s voice was not jealous in the least. They all enjoyed and lived with the benefits of sharing.

“He wants to watch,” Vecchio interpreted.

“That works, ‘cause there sure as hell isn’t enough room for the three of us in the shower.” Kowalski tapped the doorframe impatiently. “Let’s get going before my dick falls off.”

The corner of Fraser’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I came home early because I was worried the heat would instigate a… heated altercation between you.”

“Heated. Ha ha.” Kowalski had already moved into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. “Vecchio wants to get a new air conditioner.”

Vecchio pointed at Fraser. “You. Don’t start with me!” Turning back to the bathroom, he shouted, “Kowalski, you squealer, your ass is mine!”

As there were splashing sounds coming from the bathroom, Diefenbaker whined and flopped onto the floor in a sprawl.

“I would rather you keep your comments to yourself,” Fraser answered. “I suggest you go out onto the fire escape.”

The half-wolf whined and slowly sat up.

“And stay away from the pug,” Fraser added. Diefenbaker yipped and Fraser sighed. “It’s disconcerting, that’s why. Yes, and the pigeons, too.”

“Fraser!” Kowalski bellowed, followed immediately by Vecchio shouting, “Benny!”

Fraser tapped Deifenbaker’s backside with his boot. “Go. Duty calls.”

“We heard that!” Kowalksi called out, but was muffled and followed by a series of frenzied groans. “Watch the tap, asshole!”

When Fraser entered the bathroom he was thankful for three things: The Rays, heat waves, and clear shower curtains.

END.


End file.
